Numbers Rule the Whoniverse
by Almanorek
Summary: This is meant to be a Population 436 crossover, but there is no such category. My longest piece of work to date. A little NSFW scene thrown in for good measure, nothing fancy. Amy and Eleven get thrown into the town of Rockwell Falls, where nothing has changed in a very long time, but the two foreigners are more than welcome to stay as long as they'd like.


The TARDIS was catapulting through the time vortex, rocking about as it was buffeted by an unknown energy. Sparks flew from the main console, burning Amy's arms as they shielded her face. "Doctor, what's going on?" They were hit by turbulence, knocked to one side.

Eleven tried to gain his footing, holding onto a railing for dear life. "I don't know! The TARDIS is being grabbed by something in local space! Something extremely powerful!" He pulled himself forward against the steep incline. "If I can get to the console, I ca-" Another force smashed into it, sending the three vertical. They hung from the rails, dangling in the air. Eleven's hands, oily from the fish fingers and custard he had just consumed, slipped. He fell, smashing through the door of the TARDIS, which easily opened for him.

Eleven landed on his back, groaning in pain, and had the wind knocked out of him as Amy followed suit, landing on his chest with a dull thud. The TARDIS, a blot in the sky, vanished a moment later, leaving the two stranded on a dirt path in the middle of nowhere. A forest bordered either side of the road, stretching on forever in either direction.

Amy, unharmed, as she was cushioned by the Doctor's soft body, pulled herself up first, wiping dust off of her red plaid shirt. The Doctor, recovering from both impacts, he groaned and rolled onto his knees, trying to catch his breath. Before he had fully recovered, a brown and white car drove up, stopping feet from them. A young man exited the car, sporting clothes befitting a sheriff or deputy. "Howdy, folks. Your car broke d-?..." He trailed off, not seeing a vehicle anywhere nearby.

Eleven stood up, more or less fine. "Right. Our car. Terrible spot of trouble. It, um..." He looked around. "It hit that pothole, right over there, and went careening into the woods. We bailed to avoid getting hurt, or something like that."

Amy finished for him. "What the Doctor means to say is that we're stranded and we need a place to stay. Could you give us a lift?"

The man looked puzzled, clearly not used to hearing Amy's or the Doctor's foreign accents. He was obviously American. "Well, there's Rockwell Falls just a couple miles from here. You two wanna hop in the back, there, I can take ya' into town."

Eleven smiled at him. "That'll be lovely, thanks." They climbed in the back seat and the man drove them to town. He said goodbye as they got out and thanked him. Immediately they were greeted by a plain looking bald man with thick glasses.

"Welcome to Rockwell Falls! You folks deliverin', or movin' in?"

Eleven paused for a second, contemplating the choices. "We, erm, we need a place to stay for now until I can figure out how to get my... My vehicle back. Do you have a motel that me and my friend could stay in?"

Amy nudged Eleven, whispering under her breath. "Doctor, I don't know about you, but I didn't bring any money with me."

The man apparently overheard her. "Nonsense! The first night's on me. After that, we'll get you more permanent lodgings and you can start looking for work." Before they could say anything else, he got between them, put an arm around each's shoulder, and led them to a humble looking household. "Now, we don't have any such motel around here- we don't get so many visitors as you such- so you can stay here until we figure out a better solution."

The two were too polite to put up more than a slight disagreement to the situation, which the man quickly put aside. He handed them over to the homeowner, a cheery looking woman with chocolate brown hair, wearing a matching blouse and apron. "Why hello there, dearies. I hear you'll be staying with us. Lemme just show you upstairs to the guest bed."

Amy and Eleven were ushered into a small bedroom whose floorboards groaned under their collective weight. Amy was the first to fall onto the bed which, thankfully, was a lot more comfortable than it looked. The sun was already setting, and she was tired from the stress of the day, so she pulled herself under the old frayed quilt.

Eleven stared at her. "There's only one bed here."

Amy smirked at him. "Well I guess you'll have to sleep here then. In you go, raggedy Doctor."

Eleven sighed and, leaving on all of his clothes, consented, climbing into the bed. It wasn't very large, forcing them to be pressed against each other. Amy rolled onto her side. To make more room, but Eleven's shoulder still pressed into her back. "Doctor, please, for the sake of sleep, just turn on your side."

He begrudingly agreed, lining up with her under the blanket. She chuckled internally and backed up, snuggling against him. "Amy!" He tried to back away, but he was already hanging off the edge.

To stop himself from falling off, he pushed forward. As his waist was level with hers, Amy felt the equivalent sensation of the Doctor lightly thrusting at her, though she was disappointed by the lack of a hard prod. She reached a hand behind her and found the bulge of his limp member hiding behind his pants.

"Pond! What are you doing?" He couldn't pull himself away without falling off the bed and possibly disturbing their hostess.

"You said it yourself, way back when. Tomorrow could be an eternity away when the TARDIS is involved. I may not see Rory for a very, very long time. But more importantly, I want to finish what you wouldn't let me, the night before my wedding."

"But you're married now! And we're in the middle of nowhere! In America!" Despite the urgency in his voice, he kept it to a quiet hiss, mindful of his volume.

"Come now, Doctor. When was the last time you got any? One night, we never talk about it again, and we both, hopefully, walk away from it feeling quite satisfied."

Eleven didn't answer, but he didn't have to, as his cock was rapidly inflating underneath the fabric of his pants. Amy smiled and pulled it away, letting the hardening flesh free to expand towards her rump which, unbeknowst to Eleven, had been nude ever since she pulled herself under the blanket.

He remained silent as she inched her way backwards, pressing herself close rand closer against him. The hard head of his shaft parted her soft, though full cheeks. The extremely smooth texture sent a shiver of sensation through him. She pushed further, and he slid forward, under her ass, until it began to feel warm and wet as it entered her fluids that had been gathering there in anticipation.

He caught on her, slightly, before she pushed further and he passed further, causing her to gasp slightly, as he had just pressed against her clit. Finally, she brought herself to rest against him, a few inches of his length peeking out in front of her. She idly drew a few fingers across it, gently stimulating him.

Moments later, she pushed upwards against him, lining him up with her entrance, and lowered herself downwards, causing herself to sink onto him. He instinctually reciprocated, thrusting forward ever so lightly. They met somewhere in the middle, and she pulled upwards again, raising herself until she practically fell off of him, before slamming back downwards, causing the bed to groan as it shifted, and causing a slight smacking noise as her flesh met his.

Despite his reservations, Eleven established a tempo, thrusting forward into Amy just as quickly as she thrusted backwards into him. The two met again and again, increasing in velocity and force, quickly growing heedless of their surroundings and their noise level.

Amy gripped the headboard, scrunching her face as the pleasure grew powerful. Her mouth hung open, and she found herself gasping and moaning audibly. Soon enough, the sounds turned into words. "Oh god, yes, please, faster, harder, yes, oh, D-Doctor, yes, yes, mmm."

Eleven found himself gasping out Amy's name a couple of times, growing closer and closer to climax. She reached behind herself and cradled an arm around his neck, turned her head and pulling him closer, kissing him passionately. At that moment, the two simultaneously finished. Amy's body spasmed as Eleven grasped onto her tightly and thrusted powerfully, the sensations accompanied by that of hot cum being shot into her. The moment seemed to drag on blissfully, before the two finally stopped, relaxing their bodies and flopping against the bed, too sore and tired to do anything more than fall asleep.

Amy saw Eleven. Saw the TARDIS. Saw cracks, and light. Someone falling. Someone screaming. There were flashing images and loud, incoherent sounds. Nothing made sense but there was pain and anguish and suddenly she found herself bolting up, yelling loudly for a brief moment before Eleven clamped a hand over her mouth. "Pond! What's wrong?!" He spoke in a rasping whisper. Courteous of his hosts, unlike his companion.

She was shaking, but managed to calm down after a few minutes. "Just- just a nightmare." After assuring him that's all it was, they lied back down and, after some time, managed to fall asleep once again.

The next morning Eleven awoke to find her, nude in the light of sunrise, gathering her clothes that had somehow scattered themselves across the room. She got dressed quickly enough, and turned to face him with a look of pure contentment.

Eleven looked up at her with a completely opposite sense of fear. "I should probably mention, Pond, Time Lords are quite fertile. Are you on the pill, or-?"

She chuckled. "Oh, don't you worry about that, Doctor. My body isn't exactly in a baby making mood. According to the handy calendar Rory got me, I'm 'least fertile' right now."

Eleven left Amy to get dressed on her own. He toussled his hair around to make sure it retained its usual goofy look, adjusted his bowtie for optimal coolness, and wandered downstairs to find their hostess, toiling over a sizzling pan on a woodfire stove. A pair of eggs slowly browned, slices of cheese melting on top of them. She turned to Eleven and smiled. "Morning, sunshine."

He nodded at her and waited for Amy to come back down, in the same clothes she had worn the previous day, albeit they were a little more wrinkled. The hostess made a 'tsk tsk' sound. "Don't you worry, dear. Aaron Brown, down at the tailor, can git'cha set up with a whole new wardrobe. He made the dress I'm wearin' right now."

Amy replied with an awkward smile. "Oh, well, we don't really plan on staying all that long. I can get by in just this." The hostess said nothing, returning to her eggs. Eleven thought he could almost see malice in her eyes for a brief moment, but she regained her cheery attitude quickly.

They ate breakfast, thanked their hostess, and headed outside, glad to be away from the unsettling vibe the woman had been giving off. Amy watched a few kids chase each other in a game of tag, forgetting for a moment that anything was wrong, but caught herself, and turned to Eleven. "So how are we getting out of here?"

Eleven grinned. "Well, I suppose, erm, your husband will find us eventually." He blushed at the recount of the previous night's shenanigans. "In the meantime, let's find out what's going on around here. It's kind of spooky, wouldn't you say?" He watched as two burly men dragged a struggling man out of one of the nearby houses, pulling him down the street. "Very spooky."

They ran up to the kerfuffle, Eleven matching pace with the grim-faced men. "So, dragging someone out of his house, down the street. Give me one good reason not to sonic your feet onto your eyebrows and set him free."

A wrinkled hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to see the bald man from before. "Please, you musn't interfere. That man has the fever. He needs to be taken to the hospital."

"Oh, don't you worry about that. Have faith, and the fever will be gone in no time. Doctor Greaver's family has been keeping our town healthy for generations." He gave Eleven an innocent smile, turned, and followed the two burly men down the street and out of sight.

Amy was at his side immediately. "We're going to check that out, right?"

Eleven glanced at her. "Of course. I can't think of any fever that would hijack the TARDIS like that, but, if the two are related, maybe we can be home by dinner." He turned to face her fully. "In the meantime, let's ask some questions."

They were interrupted by the sheriff from before, who approached them with the same passive smile that was painted on everyone else's face. "Hey there, fellas. Our festival is startin' soon, and as the guests of honor, we'll need the both of you to be there. If you'll just follow me, please."

The two of them were led to what they could only assume was the town square. What looked like the entire town was gathered, staring at a large banner that hung in front of a wooden platform. The bald man hustled onto the stage, sweating and panting. "Sorry I'm late, everyone. Charles came down with the fever. Just needed to escort him to the hospital."

He continued. "Now, as you all know, this is a special occasion. It's the first festival we've had in over five years, and we have not one, but two people to thank for that. We never got there names, but if you'll just turn to them, they're rather easy to spot. The red-haired girl and her funny looking friend."

Everyone turned to face them, beamed. Amy chuckled awkwardly and waved back to them. "Uh, hi, everyone." Eleven simply nodded.

The man spoke again. "We haven't had two guests at once for a very, very long time, so Sandra Langly and George Carver just jumped at the chance to host the festival. So without further ado, I present, our hosts!" At the last words the banner fell away, revealing a man and a woman hanging side by side.

Amy gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth. Eleven's expression instantly changed from neutral to angry. The 'hosts' had thick ropes strung around their necks, meeting in the back with a hangman's noose, and traveling up several feet to wrap around the top post.

Eleven began pushing through people, trying to get to the stage. The man and woman smiled and waved to the audience. The bald man spoke again. It sounded like a chant. The townsfolk repeated it. Eleven didn't bother trying to hear it. He was focused on getting to the stage. Before he could even make it half of the way, the platform dropped out from underneath the man and woman's feet. They dropped, three feet, and suddenly stopped. The tension of the rope made a 'twang' and pulled them up slightly, causing them to bob for a few second before coming to rest, hanging limply.

Eleven stopped pushing forward, instead simply shouting at the bald man. "What the hell have you done?! They were your people! Why would you kill them?!"

"With two new residents, we needed to make room. That's the way it's always been. That's the way it always will be. Not much changes in Rockwell Falls. Now, a big round of applause for your hosts!" Everyone clapped.

Eleven screamed and whipped out his sonic screwdriver. Everyone backed away, fearful it was a weapon. He pointed it at the bald man and turned it on.

The green light glowed dimly, as though not entirely willing to comply. At first, nothing happened. The pitch rapidly changed as Eleven sifted through the settings, looking for the right one. Eventually, it stopped at a high-pitched whine. The crystal flickered, went out, and began to shine a dull red.

The man seemed puzzled at first, then cried out in pain. He gripped the sides of his head with both hands and began screaming. His eyes opened for a moment, and Amy saw that one of them was filled with blood. He collapsed and rolled onto his sides, still yelling. A ways off, the sheriff shouted. "Hey, stop him!" Some of the larger men in the crowd worked their way towards Eleven. One put him in a bear hug, though he still pointed the screwdriver. The second fixed that, yanking it out of his hand. Immediately, the bald man stopped screaming and began panting, thankful of the relief.

He took a few minutes to recover, understandable, due to the combination of physical duress and confusion, as he had never seen a sonic device before. Eleven continued to struggle in the arms of his captors. Amy had run up to try and pry them off of him, but she was put in a bear hug by a third helper. The bald man wiped the sweat off of his brow. "Cl-clearly, our new friends don't have very strong immune systems. They already have the fever! Don't worry though, Dr. Greaver will get them all fixed up. He always does! Anderson, Isaac, Phillip, please, take our guests to the hospital."

They were both forcibly dragged away, down a long, empty path, towards the large prison-like building that threatened to swallow them up. They were brought inside, hurried into a ward, pushed into a room, and strapped down to adjacent beds. Their wrists and ankles were bound. Their mouths, gagged by leather straps. The three men left, though not before being thanked by the man who replaced them, a wrinkly, gray-haired man. His sharp features and thin hair reminded Amy of some sort of vampire. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his off-white labcoat as he turned to face them.

He pulled out the sonic screwdriver, inspecting its copper sheen and green crystal as they caught the dim hospital lighting. "Very, very interesting. But very, very disrespectful. We don't go out into the world, preaching our values. We don't enforce our ways upon anyone else. And we expect you to do the same. Is it not disrespectful to try to teach technology to an Amish village? We're not quite as low-tech as them, but, the principle is the same. Very, very disrespectful. And," He put it back in his pocket, "Very dangerous. I find it hard to believe that this is nothing more than a weapon, but you quickly proved how easily you could use it as one."

Eleven couldn't respond. The strap across his mouth was painfully tight and did an unfortunately good job of immobilizing his jaw. He strained against his straps and found them to be of a rather superior design. The bed frame or, more likely, his limbs, would give before they did.

He closed the steel door slowly. It screeched loudly as it moved, but gently clicked as it came to a rest. "Now that we're alone, I can speak freely. To put it simply, you've stayed the night, and you can never leave. If you try, you'll die. Anyone who tries, dies. But it's not by my hand. Nor by the town's. God himself will smite you. All I can do is the merciful thing. I'll make you never want to leave. Simple as that. You'll live out the rest of your days peacefully. It's a good life. Nothing to complain about. The two of you will even be allowed to marry each other. We haven't had a couple come here in a long while."

He paused, as though waiting for a response, though all three knew this was impossible. "You look like a smart one, so I'll cut to the chase. It's a rather crude operation. We attach electrodes to you, in just the right locations, and apply specific amounts of current to them. We may not be leading in the world of medicine, but this is a technique we've perfected over a long period of time. It's not exactly painless, but it has a near-perfect success rate, and I guarantee that afterwards you'll be very, very happy."

He rolled a cart up to them from the side of the room. It carried a large, dusty box, with many cables ending in suction pads coming out of it. He grabbed a thick black power cable from the back and walked back to the wall, plugging it in. It turned on with a low electric whine that rose in pitch as the machine built up power. The needle of an old-fashioned voltmeter on the front of the box gradually turned to the right.

He moved to Eleven, first, who again, tried to struggle, but was helpless as Dr. Greaver began connecting the electrodes to him, aiding conduction with small swabs of gel. When he was completely hooked up, the doctor removed the mouth strap, allowing the Doctor to begin screaming obcenities and threats for a few moments before his mouth was filled with a thick piece of rubber that forced his upper and lower jaw apart. The strap was replaced.

Eleven turned his eyes away from Dr. Greaver long enough to make eye contact with Amy. Neither of them could speak, but she didn't need to to convey the terror she was feeling. He imagined she would be shaking, if she could move at all. His gaze returned to his captor, who was know twisting knobs on the box, making sure the electrical levels were stable, and most importantly, powerful enough.

Dr. Greaver faced Eleven one last time. "There is no point during which this will be pleasant, and near the end, it'll feel as though you're dying. All I ask is that you try to accept your fate. But, if you can't, don't worry. It won't matter, soon enough."

Eleven stared directly into his eyes, conveying anger, and hatred, and defiance, but not fear. He watched as Dr. Greaver pressed the large, black button on the side of the box. There was pain. And then there was nothing.

"You know, we haven't really been formally introduced. I'm Jeremy Erikson. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand to shake.

"Great to meet, you, Jeremy. I'm John Smith. I figure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other, seeing as I'm going to be your new neighbor!"

Jeremy smiled. "You should come down by the bookstore some time. Sometimes the truck drivers bring new literature every now and then. Just got this science fiction novel, "Doctor Who and the Daleks". No idea what it's about. I'm not a fan of that sort of thing, but I'll give you the special neighbor discount, if you're interested."

John smiled and absentmindedly rubbed his fingers across his collarbone, just above his fleece shirt. "I love a good read. I'll be sure to take a look some time, after we get properly moved in."

Jeremy removed his glasses for a second to rub them with the corner of his own shirt. "Ah, yes. Moving in, very important. And how is the misses?"

John smiled fondly. "Amelia says she enjoys our new home. She's already in the kitchen, making supper. God bless her, I couldn't stop her if I wanted to." He glanced at his bare wrist. "Oh, my, I'm sorry. I was goingo to buy some clothing, today, before the tailor closed. I must be off, Jeremy. Again, very nice to meet you."

A small brass bell rang, alerting the shop owner, who ran in from the back room moments later, that John had entered the store. They shook hands and the tailor introduced himself as Samuel McPaddrig. John smiled at the name. "Oh, that's nice. My Amelia is Scottish as well. What generation are you?"

Samuel nodded. "My family traces back almost to the town's founding. We were one of the first Scottish settlers. We faced a lot of racism, but here? Here, everyone is welcome."

John looked around at the different pieces of clothing draped onto stuffed mannequins. His gaze finally returned to Samuel. "I needed something... Do you... Do you have any fezes?"

John shook his head. "Sorry, I-" He chuckled. "I must've picked something up in one of those science fiction novels of Jeremy's. I just need a bit of a wardrobe for me and the misses. Nothing fancy."

Samuel looked John over, eyeing his measurements. He went into the back and returned a few minutes later with a stack of clothing. "These are fresh off the sewing needle." He smiled at his own joke. "Bring your Amelia by tomorrow and I can do the same for her. Now, how'll you be paying? Cash, or cash?"

They both smiled broadly as the transaction was made. John made his way back to his new house, smiling at everyone who passed and greeted him, though he was incapable of hand shaking. He opened his front door with his foot, entering the kitchen. "Hold on, Amelia, I'll be with you in a second!" He hurried to his bedroom and dropped the stack of clothing on the bed before returning to her.

When John returned to the kitchen, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders and leaned over her, pecking her on the cheek with his lips. She was stirring a large pot of soup over the stove. "Hello, darling." She turned her head to face his and reciprocated the kiss.

She put down the stirring spoon and turned to face him, crossing her arms. "And what kind of time do you call this?" She held a sour expression for a few moments before breaking out in a warm grin.

John reached forward and hugged her, wrapping his arms around her back. He held her tightly before letting go and looking her over, admiring how well she looked in the chestnut-brown dress. Even the starch white apron only added to her appearance. She noticed his wandering gaze. "Well, how do I look?"

He silently clapped for her. "Very nice, very nice. Even your scar is almost gone. You look beautiful."

She blushed lightly. "I hope you're ready to eat. I've been toiling over a boiling pot all day."

"And what's on the menu?"

"Chicken and cust-, sorry, chicken stew. Mr. Abrams came by earlier to give me a few free cutlets. Our neighbors are so nice." She turned back around and turned the gas off, then began throwing in a few spices and seasonings.

They ate and talked and smiled at each other until the sun went down. Finally, they went to bed, snuggling up against one another, until sleep took them.

John awoke to an annoying buzzing sound in his ear.

It was still dark. The noise seemed to be coming from inside of his own ears.

Amelia was fast asleep.

He got out of bed, looking for the actual source of the sound, so he could go back to sleep.

He found that the noise became clearer as he moved in one direction, and harsher in the opposite. He wandered downstairs, and outside.

He walked down the street, in the dead of night.

Still barefoot, he moved onto a long, dirt path.

A large building loomed over him. The hospital. He smiled at it, though only for a moment. The noise demanded his attention.

The door was locked, for a moment, and then it unlocked. Not questioning it, he walked inside.

The building was like a maze, but he navigated it rather easily.

He came to Dr. Greaver's office. This door, too, was locked. The light was out.

It also unlocked. He pushed it, gently, almost hypnotized.

In the center of the room sat a desk. He walked up to it.

On the center of the desk sat an object. He reached for it.

John howled in pain and dropped to the ground.

Eleven grabbed the edge of the desk and used it to pull himself back onto his feet.

He pocketed his sonic screwdriver and left the decrepit, prison-like hospital.

He walked, with purpose, down the trodden, filthy dirt road.

He crossed the deserted, dark, cracked street.

He entered his creaking, spooky house, and walked back up the rotting stairs to enter his stuffy, tiny bedroom.

Eleven stood in the doorway. Rubbing his collarbone, above his shirt, where his bowtie should have been. He sighed as he watched Amy's sleeping form.

Coming to a decision, he nonchalantly threw himself onto the bed, landing on his back. The impact threw Amy up a few inches. She landed sideways, scrambling as part of her slipped off of the bed and hit the wooden floorboards.

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "D-darling, what is it? What's wrong? Why are your feet so dirty?"

Eleven leaned over, bringing his head level with hers. "Amy, I need you to to be braver than you've ever been. I need you to be magnificent."

"What are you talking about? Please, tell me what's wrong!"

"Amy, the life you currently know is a lie. This place is awful. I know it, and you used to know it until they filled you with electricity. Luckily, my sonic screwdriver also doubles as an exceptionally large storage device. I sort of embedded a series of restoration commands into it. A very large series. It's like brain surgery, except I, well, had to guess what it'd have to operate on. Luckily, it worked, because, well, here I am! Unfortunately its usefullness is pretty limited. If they gave me a lobotomy or something, well, I'd be a goner." He kept his usual goofy expression of self amusement until he remembered the scar on the back of her head.

Amy stood up slowly and backed away from him. "Are you drunk? You told me you hadn't met the brewer, yet!"

He took a step forwards for every step she took back. He placed his hands on her cheeks. "Amy, please, you need to remember. I can't do this without you, and I'm not leaving without you, either."

Tears appeared on her face. She clasped her hands over his. "Do- John, please, stop it! You're scaring me!"

"Amy, I don't like repeating myself. You're special. You grew up with the crack in the side of your wall. Even after we rebooted the universe you brought me back. Not the crack. You. You saved your family. You saved Rory. You saved me. Now you need to save yourself. Your brain- your wonderful, magnificent brain- they may have taken part of it out of you, but if in all the multiverse, if just one Amy Pond somewhere or somewhen out still has that part, it can be remembered." He pulled away from her, and stared directly into her eyes. "And if something can be remembered, it can come back."

Eleven reached back into his pocket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. He pressed the button and pointed it at his temple. His eyes became attuned to the binding threads of the multiverse. The room was almost bare. A few curving lines poked through the ceiling and ran through a piece of furniture, escaping through the floor. Even Amy herself had but a single string running into her head. "It's n-not enough. You can't remember anything like this."

He buried his head in his hands and began pacing around the room, rising from his palms to quickly turn to the bedside vanity mirror and punching it, causing it to shatter with a loud crash. "We were going to adventure together, forever! You, me, Rory, the TARDIS! We were a team! We were- we were going to do so much more."

He heard her say "Rory" absentmindedly, as though the words was a stranger to her.

He smashed the backboard of the mirror with his other hand, splintering it. "And what'll River say? 'Oh, good job, Doctor, you turned my mother into a vegetable!' You're Amelia Pond! You're supposed to be an action hero! And I ruined it! I ruined everything!" He swung again, his fist bleeding from the splinters that were now cutting into him.

As if on some horrific cue, the dead silence of the night turned into the heavy pitter-patter of rain. He kept pounding into the mirror's board, piercing it further and further, blood whipping around, flying onto the wall and floor.

Thunder boomed, shaking the house to its very foundation. Every few seconds, another explosion of sound rang out.

He stopped punching and heard Amy taking a few steps towards him. "Are you okay? Your hands..."

He shushed her.

The tiniest rasp reached their ears, punctured by the sound of the storm. A rasping heartbeat. An all too familiar sound.

Eleven turned to face her. "Amy, please, do you have any idea what made that sound?"

She was silent for a long while, but finally spoke. "Something old. Something new. Something stolen. Something blue."

He began to cry for a second, while at the same time smiling at her more than he could remember smiling in a very long time. "I prefer to call it 'borrowed', but, close enough. Welcome back, Amy Pond." He ran over and embraced her tightly.

After what seemed like a very long time, she broke the hug. "Doctor, I don't understand. They took out a piece of my brain. You don't just recover from that."

He chuckled. "Didn't I just say I don't like repeating myself? It's sort of wibbley-wobbley, but, the best way to explain it is, the crack, in your wall, was like a sort of miniature time vortex, in addition to a scar in space-time. It needed the energy of the exploding TARDIS to reach everywhere at once, but even when it was inert, it could link different points in space and time. Specifically, your points. Except, the crack in the wall never existed, because we rebooted the universe, except, while the damage is gone, the link will never go away, because you were inside of the Pandorica. And the light of the Pandorica restores whatever it touches. Except, the Pandorica never existed. Except, it doesn't matter, because it still does. It's all extremely convoluted but, your existence supercedes the laws of reality. That's what's important. You're so intimately linked with the rest of yourself that, for example, if you wanted to, you could learn what happened if you had done something differently. You could find out the Prime Minister in an alternate reality. You just need to try hard enough. It's why you're so prone to those beautiful self-fulfilling paradoxes." He smiled at her. "And it's why you were able to reach into a part of your existence that remembered everything I needed you to remember."

"So I just pulled new matter into this universe? Not even conservation of matter applies to me?"

"Well, no, not quite. At least, not this time. There are these things called 'vacuum fluctuations'. Tiny particle-antiparticle pairs that appear and then annihilate each other almost instantly. If they're near a black hole, sometimes one of the parts of a pair can be whisked away, leaving the other pair to escape. You sort of have a black hole in your brain. A smart one. It took the parts it needed and, well, hopefully scattered the rest of the antiparticles uniformly across the universe. Otherwise, you may be responsible for a small explosion."

She stared at him, trying to take in all the information, and decided to simply smile and nod. "Well, the important thing is I'm back. Right?"

He paused, thinking. "Right! And now we've got to get out of here. This isn't exactly a nice neighborhood. So, whaddya say, Pond. Like old times? Run!"

They both quickly made their way outside, reaching the doorway as the rain picked up, becoming a torrent that practically commanded the duo to stay inside. Undeterred by measly water, they started running down the rapidly-flooding street, flinching as the sound of thunder erupted overhead.

Lights turned on all around them. Houses flicked to life. People looked out of windows to watch the two renegades. Eleven and Amy ignored them, reaching the edge of the houses, the road changing from pavement to dirt, or, rather, what was once dirt and was now a thick mud.

They heard shouting. Men, calling out to one another. Orders being given. The sound of feet pounding on floorboards. Of doors opening and slamming back shut. Amy peeked out behind her and saw a small mob gathering, carrying what appeared to be weapons. She grabbed Eleven by the cuff of his sleeve and pulled him forward as she increased her pace, hard as it was in the soft earth.

Amy heard the sound of the TARDIS materializing above them. She glanced upwards to see a glimmer of the bluest blue, a silhouette in the dark sky, for a brief moment before the sky exploded with light, a bolt of lightning arcing across the clouds, whiting out everything else for a moment, before blackness retook it, the police box vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The mud continued to liquefy, almost grasping at them, trying to slow them down. The men, on the other hand, seemed to avoid this problem entirely. They charged ahead, shouting words that were drowned out by the rainfall.

The village continued to disappear behind them, though the road stretched on far ahead. They passed a sign, the words obscured by the weather, (And by the fact that they were on the other side) but Eleven recognized it as the 'Welcome' sign they had passed on their way into town that short, horrible time ago. A man shouted. Amy turned around to see him pointing a rifle at her. He fired. The inside of the TARDIS appeared before her for a brief moment. The sound of a bullet hitting wood rang out, but the sound and sight of lightning illuminated everything around them, and the interior vanished. The men seemed stunned by the sudden apparition, and Amy took the opportunity to continue running, though at this point it was more like trudging, through the practically living ground. "Doctor, what's happening?!"

Eleven pulled out his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the ground. After cycling through a dozen settings it found one that worked. The mud, now churning, grew still, and solid. The 'plop' of shoe impacting mud transitioned into a firm 'thud'. "Bio-programming! Weather control! Gangers! Weaponized time locks!"

The ground grew soft again. Eleven continued to apply the screwdriver's effect, fixing the sections of the ground as they gave way. Though it wasn't foolproof, Amy saw that though they weren't gaining any distance on the lynch mob, they were at least avoiding losing any more. "Really? These people seem a little too simple for that!"

"Of course not! That was a clever series of lies meant to distract you!"

Amy was confused for a moment before she looked ahead and saw what the distraction was for. The road came to an end. And not just the road, but the trees, and the grass, and the earth.

There was nothing ahead. As they reached the cliff, Amy looked down to see rain falling into an empty gray void.

Amy heard her name being called out by a familiar voice.

She turned to Eleven. "Doctor, that was Rory! He's piloting the TARDIS!"

Eleven looked back and forth, past the edge of what seemed like reality and back to the rapidly approaching, armed, disgruntled men. "Impossible! The controls are isomorphic!"

He looked back at her, and was briefly surprised to see a look of conviction on her face. "I believe in Rory. I don't know how, but I know that he can save us. There are only two ways to go, and the other is to a bunch of angry men with guns. The other way..." She swallowed. "Is there." She turned to look down into the void.

"Amy, that's insane! If Rory can help us, he can help without us falling into a lack of reality!" She leaned over the edge. "Amelia, stop!"

She turned to look at him, staring directly into his eyes. "You believe in me. I believe in him."

Before he could stop her, she took a step off the edge and plummeted.

Eleven watched as she fell and disappeared from view, glanced back at the men, who were now aiming at him, and sighed. "Typical Scottswoman." He jumped after her, pointing his body directly downwards to accelerate towards more quickly, catching up to Amy and grabbing her hand.

There was nothing but gray around them. Even the rain vanished. The descent was perfectly silent, save for each other. Eleven pulled himself closer to Amy, in his mind, keeping her safe. From what, he didn't know. "Your husband better hurry up. I don't know if there's a ground below us but I do know what'll happen if we hit it."

As if on cue, the two heard the telltale "VWORP VWORP" of the TARDIS. The blue box appeared sideways below them. The door opened. Rory pulled himself halfway out of it, holding his hand out to the free-fallers.

The cloudless expanse flickered white and rang out as another lightning bolt arced towards them, from some unknowable distance away. Rory turned back into the control room. "Now!" The light on the top of the TARDIS shone white and fired its own, blue arc. The two met several meters away and cancelled eachother out with an odd sound, like metal tearing. Rory turned back to Amy and Eleven. He grabbed Eleven's hand and pulled him inwards. It spun as they crossed the threshold, stopping them from plummeting inwards, instead causing them to lightly impact the ground. Rory shut the door behind him.

Amy sat there, relaxing, trying to catch her breath. Eleven, meanwhile, jumped up and ran towards the console. "Rory, how did you manage to fly the TARDIS?"

River peeked out from the side of the center pillar. "Hello sweetie."

Eleven started flipping levers, spinning wheels, pressing buttons. "River, what are you doing here? How did Rory contact you?"

Rory walked over to him. "You're safe now, right? We can relax? You still seem sort of... Panicked."

Eleven began hammering on the controls, begging for a response. "No, we're not safe! I can't get out this local space. Something is stopping the TARDIS from entering the time vortex!"

River bit her lower lip hesitantly. "Rory didn't contact me. The TARDIS did."

Eleven paused, and looked at her. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My vortex manipulator was locked to a set of coordinates. I followed them, it led me here. Dad and I have been working to find a way to bypass the... Whatever this place is... The defenses. It took a lot of trial and error but we managed to figure it out."

Amy sidled up to Rory and grasped his hand with hers. "Well if you did it once, you can do it again, right? More trial and error?"

River looked down. "If only it were that simple. The TARDIS also gave me a message."

Eleven approached her. "What message?"

"This is the day the Doctor dies."

Eleven took a step back from her. "No, no, we've been over this. Lake Silencio. That was my fixed death, but I got around it. I don't need to die anymore. There's no reason for me to! We can just escape!"

She closed her eyes, almost as if she was praying. "My love, you were able to find out about Lake Silencio, allowed to prepare and avoid your true death there, because you're meant to die here."

Rory choked on his words. "D-Doctor. Please tell me she's wrong. Please."

River took a deep breath. "The TARDIS showed me how it happens. But you need to realize it yourself. You need to see that it's the only way."

Eleven looked around the TARDIS. "Can't leave the TARDIS. Can't get the TARDIS to leave. No friends. No call for help. No weapons. Except..."

Amy perked up. "Except?"

"Except we do have a weapon. We have the TARDIS."

Amy was confused. "What are you talking about? How is the TARDIS a weapon?"

Eleven circled the center control panel, sliding his hand across it. "It happened a while ago. About two hundred years, for me. It won't happen for another two hundred thousand for you." He looked at River. "I know what I have to do."

He stopped and stared at a section of the console. "Alright, girl. One last time, for me. Open up."

Without delay, the console opened up. A blinding white light engulfed Eleven. Small wisps of golden energy seeped into his eyes. He took it in like a breath of life, and just as quickly as it had opened, it closed, leaving the Doctor standing there, brimming with power.

Amy was entranced, but scared. "Doctor, what've you done?"

Eleven tried to speak, but at first it came out only as a grunt that also echoed with the sound of the TARDIS and the crack of thunder. He took another breath and seemed to get a better control of himself. "I've absorbed the time vortex. The last time someone did this, she called herself the Bad Wolf. But I don't feel right taking that name. I'm still the Doctor. For now."

He walked to the door of the TARDIS and opened it. The gray void was charged with electricity, ready to strike at any moment. Eleven held out his hand, golden light still pouring out of his eyes, as if they were molten with energy. "I can feel you! I don't know what you are, but I can feel you!" In response, a bolt launched towards the TARDIS from far away. Eleven clenched his outstretched hand into a fist. The bolt stopped and faded instantly.

"You aren't of this world, but I know now, we aren't in my world. We haven't been for a long time. I don't need to see you. I don't need to fight you. I just need..." He held his other hand forward, gripped nothingness tightly, and pulled his arms apart. "I just need a way out!" With visible effort, a flash of white light washed out the TARDIS, and its occupants. "River, now!"

She pulled a large lever on the console, while Eleven exhaled. The TARDIS's doors slammed shut. As it began humming gently.

The TARDIS was quiet. Rory, River, and Amy stared at Eleven. He took a pained step towards them. "Hey there, everyone. We made it. Good to be home."

Amy raised her brow. "So you made it? You aren't dead?"

He coughed, releasing a few puffs of orange-gold regeneration energy. "Not quite. Give it a minute."

River approached him. "My love, before you regenerate, is there anything you need to tell us? Anything that needs to be done?"

He chuckled, sending him into another coughing fit. "Don't worry, River. I should be the same as before. Just, completely different, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Don't worry about it."

Eleven took a deep breath and stood up straight, holding his hands out to his sides. The glow overtook him, bubbling to the surface, ready to burst. And then it did. Jets of flame shot out of his arms and head. The force cause the glass floor of the TARDIS to crack, and in some sections, shatter. The entire room was bathed in the light of his transformation.

The TARDIS shuddered, Amy, Rory, and River were tossed to the floor. The door swung back open, exposing the interior to the raw time vortex, which was tinged an unsightly brown. They hadn't escaped. Tears began appearing in air, similar to the crack in Amy's bedroom wall. The billowing clouds of the time vortex slowed, before grinding to a halt, perfectly still in the dark void.

The glow of regeneration stopped, freezing into orange beads. The beads seemed to have the color leeched out of them, turning into tiny gray balls, which began flowing back into him. Eleven screamed out in pain and collapsed to the ground, writhing as he was filling with the corrupted energy.

The flow stopped, and the cracks expanded. A black hole appeared in the center of it, expanding to fill the space in the time vortex. Eleven, despite the fact that he was currently in agony, felt the gentle sensation of being dragged against the floor. He opened his eyes for a moment to see himself creeping slowly towards the TARDIS door.

Amy got up. "Doctor!" She ran over to him, just as he began to slip away further. She dove and grabbed onto his hand, but the pull was growing too strong too quickly, and she too was being yanked by the same bodiless force.

As soon as Rory saw this, he ran after Amy and grabbed her ankle, managing to wrap his leg around the railing surrounding the console. The strain on his body quickly grew immense. Eleven and Amy were no longer on the ground, instead hovering inches in the air. He looked to see his daughter simply standing there. "River! For god's sake, help us!"

"No! I can't interfere with this! Neither can you. Either of you. This has to happen. Please, for your own sakes, let him go." She made no move, either to help or hinder them, leaving the choice up to Rory.

Eleven struggled against the immense pull and reached into his pocket, grabbing his sonic screwdriver. He pointed it at the now gaping black maw of nothingness and turned it on.

Nothing happened, except for the screwdriver disintegrating. Flecks of metal tore off, bit by bit, working its way down the length of the device until there wasn't enough of it to hold onto. It vanished into blackness.

He looked back at Amy, who was visibly in pain simply from holding onto him. And to Rory, who was in even worse distress, his leghold beginning to slip. Finally, he made eye contact with River. She made no expression. She said nothing. But in that moment she told him what he had to do.

Lastly, he looked back at Amy. With the same wordless stare, she understood, and, as he expected, she fought back, reaching forward with her other arm, latching on, and screaming, "Don't you dare, raggedy man!"

He let go of her. The force was enough to tear him out of the weakened grip. Within a second, his body was ripped out of the TARDIS into darkness, which threatened to close, becoming wobbly for just a moment before unleashing a shockwave and expanding, having tasted victory and wanting more. The impact knocked Amy's ankle out of Rory's hand, and she flew forward into the void, which collapsed down to a single point before vanishing entirely.

The time vortex began to regain its old hue. Clouds, currently motionless, began to show the first inklings of movement. This eventually turned into the whirlwind that everyone had grown accustomed to. Rory reached out past the door frame. "Amy! Doctor!" He turned to River. "We need to go back."

River merely shook her head. "I'm sorry, Rory. There's nothing we can do." She walked over to the console and began interacting with the displays. "You can see, right here. According to the TARDIS, where we just were doesn't exist. It never did."

Rory, feeling the impact of her words, tried to keep himself together, but quickly fell to tears. River patted him on the back, whispering comforting words, but she knew they were meaningless, and they would never see Amy or the Doctor ever again.

John and Amelia Smith happily walked down the pristine stone path to the village market. The two were very happy with each other. Granted, John would occasionally reach in the pocket of his coat, even if he wasn't wearing one, and grasping at his collarbone, and Amelia would tear up whenever someone used the phrase 'When in Rome', but the two were told that these were nervous ticks caused by the fever-curing operation, and they would go away soon enough. They smiled when they heard the good news, as they smiled now, and as they would continue to smile, for years, and years, and years, until one day, they were picked to host the festival, for the good of the village.


End file.
